


Life's Little Triumphs

by dotchan



Category: Final Fantasy VI
Genre: Drama, Gen, Introspection, Post-Canon, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-29
Updated: 2016-10-29
Packaged: 2018-08-27 17:48:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 17,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8410825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dotchan/pseuds/dotchan
Summary: The credits ran, but their lives kept going.  This is a speculation on how things might have went.Written in 2006.





	1. Prologue

(Game dialogue paraphrased from <http://www.gamefaqs.com/ps/562865-final-fantasy-vi/faqs/22693>)

* * *

Terra shuddered as she recognized the hair-raising sound as Kefka’s signature cackle. This was it, the final battle.

“Welcome, friends!” Kefka appeared encased in a field of energy. Around him, the land was so swollen with magical power that bits of it would condense and drip off, sparkling, into the oblivion below. “I knew you’d make it here, so I’ve prepared some suitable entertainment for you!” He pointed at the group. “I’ve tapped into the ultimate power. Observe!”

“Locke!” Celes screamed as the young man was lifted into the air by some invisible force and dangled over the precipice.

“Such magnificent power!” Kekfa gloated. “Compared to me, you’re nothing but insects!” At another wave of his hand, Celes joined Locke. “I’ll exterminate everyone and everything!” With that declaration, he let them drop back onto the platform.

“Dammit, that bastard’s just playing with us,” Locke growled, helping Celes to her feet.

“People will keep rebuilding the things you take from them!” Terra shouted.

Kefka shrugged. “Then I’ll smash those, too.” Scenes of the burning of Vector, the apocalypse after the Unbalance, and the various towns hit by the Light of Judgement appeared before him. “Why do people rebuild things they know are going to be destroyed?” Terra recognized Albrook, Moblitz, and Jidoor in the images that flashed by. “Why do people cling to life when they know they can’t live forever?” Kefka gestured towards the group. “Think how meaningless each of your lives is!”

“I have, every single day since I’ve had my own mind back. And I’ve realized something.” Terra clenched her fists. “It’s not just the net result of one’s life that’s important. It’s the day-to-day concerns, the personal victories, and the celebration of life! It’s enough if people are able to experience the joy that each day can bring.”

Kefka sneered at Terra’s words. “And have you found your ‘joy’ in this nearly dead world of ours?”

Terra nodded. “Yes!” She thought of the children in Moblitz. “I know what it means to be precious.”

Locke stepped forward to stand next to Terra. “And I’ve learned to celebrate life—and the living.”

Cyan, brandishing the Aura, spoke up next. “My family lives on inside of me.”

Edgar, too, added his voice to the group. “I’m building a kingdom where I can guarantee freedom and dignity to everyone.”

Sabin placed a hand on Edgar’s shoulder. “And I’m gonna help my brother any way I can!”

Celes reached out, took Locke’s hand and gave it a small squeeze. “I’ve met someone who can accept me for what I am.”

Strago pulled Relm close to his side. “I have a special little Granddaughter.”

Relm gave Strago a hug in return. “And I’ve got a brave Grandpa who’ll stand by me through it all!”

Setzer pointed upwards. “The _Falcon_ carries my hopes and dreams—and those of the woman I love.”

“I have my friends here!” Mog declared.

Gau grinned. “You _my_ friends too! Me AWOOO all of you!”

Kefka turned away as if to contemplate these words. A breathless silence hung over the group as they waited, watching, almost daring to hope. “This—” Then Kefka faced forward again, disgust written all over his gnarled features. “This is sickening! You sound like chapters from a self-help booklet!” Magic began to swirl around him. “It’s my turn!” Kefka raised his arms, and the entire mountain began to glow. “Now, for my next trick, I’ll make you all disappear!”

Terra felt her heart sink as the glow grew brighter. “Kefka, you don’t know what you’re doing! Stop!”

“Stop? Why should I?” Kefka raised a fist. “I command the greatest power in the universe! You are all helpless before me!” The entire land mass burst apart, leaving a single fire-dotted peak at the top of which Kefka stood sneering. He raised his other fist. “I’ll obliterate everything! I’ll create a monument to nothingness!”

Terra saw another rising pillar and took the chance to jump onto it. “Life will go on, and so will people, as long as they have hope! Just you watch!”

“No!” Kefka stamped his foot like a petulant child throwing a temper tantrum. “Whoever’s left, I’ll hunt them down. I’ll destroy it all! Destroy! Destroy! Destroy!”

Locke, too, rode a pillar to the top. “You think we’ll let you do that?”

“Hee, hee, hee!” Kefka bared his teeth in a wolfish grin. “How amusing! Go ahead and try to protect those ‘precious’ lives! In the end, it’ll all come to naught!” With that, he released another blast.

– _Prologue_ –

“All right, on three.” Shadow didn’t wait for a confirmation from Umaro. “One—two—THREE!”

They charged forward, Shadow letting out a shout of frustration as they hit the barrier again. Umaro grunted as well and pressed forward, using his larger bulk as leverage.

 _I’m a coward. A fucking coward!_ Shadow tightened his grip on the Zoneseek magicite and forced every ounce of his will into it. _I should be there with her right now, not stuck on the outside like this!_ He slammed his sore fist towards the barrier. “RELM!”

Umaro reacted before Shadow did, catching the ninja by his collar as the barrier vanished to keep him from stumbling forward. At the same time, a scream of pain and disbelief echoed from the battleground, a noise so piercing that both Umaro and Shadow covered their ears.

“NO!” Kefka screamed again, sending shock-waves that could be felt even at this distance. “I can’t lose! I’m invincible!”

With nothing blocking his way Shadow now rushed through the doors—and pulled up short, staring, as he saw Kefka’s final form. Kefka’s body had ballooned to the size of the tower itself, his skin purple and mottled from the infusion of magic. Wrapped in blood red cloth, with three misshaped wings growing out of his back, he looked at once frightening and beautiful.

Terra landed next to Shadow in Esper form, flicking discolored blood from the Atma Weapon, its blade glowing with power. “It’s over.”

Kefka continued to wail, his form disintegrating as the wound Terra gave him spread. “You can’t do this to me! I’m the god of this world!”

Once again, it was Umaro who moved first, enveloping the exhausted group in protective magic as Kefka lashed out in his death throes, scattering lancets of energy outward until all of him vanished.

Shadow reinforced the bubble as well. “With Kefka gone, the tower won’t last long, either. We’ve got to get out of here.”

“Yes, we haven’t any time to waste.” Terra began walking forward, but she hadn’t gone more than a few steps when her legs gave out beneath her.

Locke rushed forward to support her. “Terra! What’s happening?”

“The Magicite!” Edgar gasped, pointing behind Terra.

One by one, several shards of the magical substance rose out of Terra’s pouch and into the air, hovering for a moment before shattering in a burst of light and color.

“What’s going on?” Sabin demanded as another shard of Magicite eluded his grasp.

“Of course,” mumbled Strago. “Magic is disappearing from this world. The Espers can no longer exist.”

Locke looked up, alarmed. “You mean Terra, too?”

“I—” Strago looked away. “I wish I knew.”

Terra forced herself to stand. “Don’t worry about me. I won’t go down that easily.” At her words, the tower began to shake. “Come on!”

– _Prologue_ –

— _CYAN as Cyan Garamonde_ —

Cyan hit the ground rolling, coming to a stop when he hit the opposite wall. _Damn, didn’t expect the floor to give out like that._ He rubbed his shoulder. _I’m getting to old for this._ “Hey!” He called out, peering into the darkening room. “You guys okay?”

“Cyan!” Edgar called back, holding on for dear life from a ledge high in the air. “There’s got to be something that controls the stairs!”

“Machines; I hate machines!” Cyan muttered, scanning the area. He bit back an exclamation of dismay when he saw the number of switches, buttons, and levers. “This might take a while.”

“Look for a label! Even evil minions need instructions!” Edgar squeezed his eyes shut. “Hurry, Cyan! It’s a long way down from here!”

Cyan forced himself to stay calm. Edgar’s words made sense; after all, the waves of sentries they had encountered on the way in had to move around the tower somehow. He examined each panel until he found one that bore a ramp-shaped symbol. He pressed that switch as hard as he could, praying that he got the right one.

To his (and Edgar’s, no doubt) immense relief, the stairs did reappear, and Edgar was able to make his way back down without further incident. “Woo! Way to show technology who’s boss!”

– _Prologue_ –

— _SETZER as Setzer Gabbiani_ —

“Uh-oh.” Celes paused before the two sets of doors. “I don’t remember passing this on the way in.”

“Me neither; we’ll just have to try them both, I guess.” Edgar turned to Setzer. “Would you do the honors, Setzer?”

Setzer fished a coin from his pocket. “Same as before—heads right, tails left?”

Celes rolled her eyes and started forward. “Whatever.”

“Wait!” Seized by an explicable sense of foreboding, Setzer let the coin fall to the ground and tackled Celes away from the door she had intended to open; moments later, an explosion rendered that very passage inaccessible.

Edgar picked up the coin Setzer had dropped, showing him that it had landed on heads—meaning they would have walked straight to their deaths. “Still believe in the luck of the draw?”

Setzer checked his belongings. “Oh, that’s the limited release double-headed Figaro! I’ve been meaning to put it in my collection, but I guess I never got around to it.” He pointed to the other door. “What say we go this way instead?”

– _Prologue_ –

— _EDGAR as Edgar Roni Figaro and SABIN as Sabin Rene Figaro_ —

“EDGAR!”

Edgar made the mistake of looking up and realized that he had wasted his chance to escape being crushed by the immense metal beam that had been knocked loose by that last tremor. He pressed himself against the door frame, bracing for the worst.

When he opened his eyes again, he was looking up into the eyes of his brother, who had one arm around him and the other bracing against the beam; one corner landed straight on the back of Sabin’s head, opening a nasty gash. “You dumb ass—” Edgar pressed his handkerchief there. “You could have gotten yourself killed!”

Sabin grinned back, shifting his weight to catch the beam in both arms. “That’s what all the training was for—so I could put these stupid muscles to use.” He grunted and tossed the beam aside. “Besides, if you died I’d have to be king, and I don’t know a thing about running a country.”

Edgar removed his jacket and began tearing strips out of it. “You dumb ass,” he repeated as he doted on the injury. “If you get yourself killed on my account, I’d never forgive you!”

Sabin chuckled. “Duly noted.”

– _Prologue_ –

— _MOG as Mog_ —

 _Déjà vu,_ Edgar thought as he looked for a way to get Mog across the chasm that had opened between them.

“I’m falling!” Mog panicked as he began slipping towards edge. “Help!”

“Coming!” Edgar shouted back as he found the controls to the hook he’d spotted. In no time at all he’d manipulated it towards Mog.

“Watch it!” Mog cried as the hook swung a bit too close for comfort. “Watch the hair!”

Edgar hid a snicker behind his hand. “Sorry, I’m still getting a hang of these controls.” He tested the handles at a less intense pace now. “I don’t think the hook goes quite that far, so you’ll have to jump!”

“Fine! Just watch the hair!”

“Don’t you think trying to save your life is a bit more important?”

“Yes, but so is not going bald!”

At this, Edgar couldn’t help but laugh out loud.

– _Prologue_ –

— _UMARO as Umaro_ —

“Dammit, locked!” Celes kicked the door. “If it’s not one thing, it’s another!”

“If we had a crowbar or something we might have some way to force it open—” Setzer began and was about to start looking among the debris around them when Umaro interrupted him with a loud roar and slammed against the narrowest point in the obstruction, creating a significant dent. “Well, that works too.”

Celes just stared as Umaro kept pressing forward until he had carved a path with his own body. “Um—thanks,” she managed as she continued forward.

Umaro raised his arms into the air and gave a roar of victory.

– _Prologue_ –

— _GOGO as Gogo_ —

Celes tried the switches that she had spotted. “They’re not working.” She wrung her hands. “What do we do now? If we don’t stick together, who knows if we’ll be able to meet up again?”

“There’s another set of switches on this end,” Gogo reported, having made a similar sweep of the section he was trapped on.

Edgar gained a thoughtful look. “I wonder—”

“Way ahead of you, bro.” Sabin called up to Gogo. “Hey, Gogo! Watch Celes and do exactly what she does!”

Gogo nodded, and a moment later the mimic was even breathing and blinking at the same time as Celes. They tried the sequence again, moving in perfect synchronization. It wasn’t before long that the turning table reactivated, reconnecting the three sections of the room together.

 _That was amazing!_ Celes thought, following behind Edgar and Sabin as they scouted ahead to check the footing. She stopped short when she found herself almost bumping noses with Gogo. “Um—” She tried to sidestep him, but found her movements being matched. “Oh, you don’t have to copy me any more.”

“Of course.” Gogo chuckled, letting her pass. “My apologies.”

– _Prologue_ –

— _GAU as Gau_ —

Gau’s eyes lit up and his mouth spread into a wide grin. “Gau find short cut!”

“Gau, I don’t think your idea of a shortcut is—” Before Celes could finish voicing her objections, Gau picked her up by the waist. She couldn’t help letting out a small scream as Gau tossed her onto a rock, the force of her landing causing a minor landslide. She squeezed her eyes shut and clung on as she rode the rock all the way to the bottom of the long slope. The moment she was on her feet again, she looked up the hill intending to give Gau a piece of her mind but found herself gaping instead as she watched Edgar being tossed in a similar manner, followed by the wild boy.

She helped Edgar up, dusting off his bedraggled clothes. “Are you all right?”

“I’ve lived through worse,” Edgar glanced over to Gau, who was looking quite pleased with himself and waiting for the praise he thought he deserved. He patted the lad on the head. “Thanks, Gau, but I think both of us would rather walk from now on.”

“No more shortcuts?” Gau asked, his countenance more muted.

“Not ones that involve falling,” Celes clarified, adding: “Please.”

– _Prologue_ –

— _LOCKE as Locke Cole and CELES as Celes Chere_ —

 _Stupid, stupid, stupid!_ Was Celes’ singular coherent thought as she lost her footing and slid towards the darkness below. She’d spent most of her life cutting herself from any kind of relationship but now she would plunge to her death over a minuscule object of mere sentimentality.

“Celes!” Locke’s cry sounded above her head just as his hand caught hers. Now both of them dangled over the edge, and if another tremor shook, he would join her. He reached down his other hand, keeping his eyes fixed on hers. “Grab on! Hurry!”

“You should just let me fall,” Celes muttered, obeying him nonetheless. Why was it that he was always running to her rescue when she never did a thing to deserve it?

Locke must have heard her, for he gripped her even tighter. “Never. I made a promise.”

“That was way too close!” Edgar remarked, having doubled back to help. Between him and Setzer, she and Locke was pulled to safety.

“What were you thinking?” Locke yelled the moment they reached safe ground, his voice fraught with worry. “You almost ate it trying to pick up that silly trinket!”

“Not now,” Celes hissed, fighting the urge to blush. “Not another word,” she warned Edgar and Setzer when she caught them making faces at her.

“Maybe we ought to leave you two lovebirds alone,” Setzer snickered.

Edgar managed to keep his composure a bit better. “This is no time to joke. If the floor shakes again, we’re all toast.”

As soon as he said this, a low rumbling began in the distance. Everyone scrambled forward, Locke stopping just long enough to take Celes into his arms.

– _Prologue_ –

— _TERRA as Terra Branford_ —  
Terra slowed to a stop before the ominous-looking glass tubes that towered above her, recognizing them for the remains of the Magitek factory where many Espers had been taken to and experimented on as if they were just objects to be studied. The Magicite she had been holding onto flew out of her hands and hovered in the air. _Terra._

“Father,” she whispered, the aura she felt at once familiar and alien.

> Terra, without the Goddesses we Espers will no longer be able to keep a physical form in this world. But maybe if your heart still has something to hold onto, then maybe—

Maduin, too, vanished in a spray of stone.

“Terra?” Cyan prompted.

Terra shook her head. “I’m all right. Let’s go.”

– _Prologue_ –

— _RELM as Relm Arrowny_ —

“Grandpa!” Relm chided as she helped Strago up, thinking that he was being his usual mischievous self. “Cut it out!”

“Sorry, dear.” Strago took a tentative step forward, being careful to not catch his shoes against the conveyor belt again.

With some effort, Relm supported Strago with her small body and continued walking. “If I hear another peep out of you, I’m gonna draw your portrait!”

Strago gasped. “No! Anything but that!”

Relm sighed. “But, really. I’d like to do a painting of you for once.” She smiled. “On canvas, of course!”

“Relm!” Strago groaned. “How could you be thinking about pictures at a time like this?”

– _Prologue_ –

— _SHADOW as Shadow_ —  
Shadow’s body moved before his mind could react, pushing Interceptor out of the way of the falling debris. He bit back a grunt as it landed on him instead, feeling a sharp pain rise in his leg. Interceptor gave a worried bark, tugging at Shadow’s sleeve.

“Don’t worry about me.” Shadow commanded the dog. “Go on!”

Interceptor just kept on tugging, as if it were intent to drag Shadow out like this if he had to.

Shadow stroked his beloved pet on the head. “Guess there isn’t any arguing with you, hm?” Grasping Interceptor’s collar, he made the motion for the dog to go forward.

 _Dying now would be no different than running away, wouldn’t it, Baram?_ He thought, limping to his feet. _But as long as I’m still alive, then maybe I’ll be able to start all over again._

– _Prologue_ –

— _STRAGO as Strago Magus_ —

By the time they reached the point where they entered into Kefka’s tower, Strago felt like his old self again. Above them, the lifeline into the Falcon dangled just out of reach.

“No! NO!” Strago stamped his foot. “A ‘kid’ like me doesn’t know the meaning of defeat!”

Racing up the rocks, Strago reached the top of the peak where he could have a chance at the hook. After a few false starts, he caught it with one mighty leap.

“Gotcha!” He gloated as he and the hook lowered.

– _Prologue_ –

— _And_ —

Everyone scrambled aboard the Falcon, with Terra in the lead and Strago taking up the rear.

“This way!” Terra shouted, leaping into the air as Setzer took the helm.

“The last piece of Magicite!” Edgar noted as he saw the green shard crack and shatter.

Celes rushed to the bow of the Falcon, and sighed in relief to see that Terra was still airborne. “Terra! You’re okay!”

Strago, however, could sense that Terra’s aura was diminishing. “No, Terra! Get back on board, NOW! You’re powers are failing!”

Setzer, also realizing that Terra was beginning to drop, set the Falcon to go at its highest speed. Weaving through the disintegrating remains, the Falcon broke free of Kefka’s Tower towards the falling girl.

– _Prologue_ –

In Moblitz, two children standing watch wondered what the sparkling light in the distance could be, as it was still too soon for any stars to shine. Before they could figure out, though, another child ran up to them.

“The baby’s coming!” The boy shouted. “The baby’s coming!”

Hurrying back into the house where Katarin lived, the three joined the other children in their vigil around the bed.

> Do it right, Katarin!

Everyone looked around.

“Did you hear that?” Duane asked.

“Mama?” One of the children piped up, eyes full of wonder.

 _I’ve got to hang in there for a little while longer,_ Terra thought as she fell. _Just a little longer._

– _Prologue_ –

Celes opened her eyes and struggled to her feet; around her, the other members of the group lay sprawled in various states of consciousness.

“Terra?!?” Panicking, Celes’ eyes darted all over the deck. Finally, just as she was beginning to lose hope, she caught a glimpse of green. “Terra!”

Celes caught Terra in a joyful hug; the rest surrounded them, sharing in the exultation of victory.

“Thank you, Setzer!” Terra said, smiling at the gambler.

Setzer puffed out his chest. “Didn’t I tell you before that this was the world’s fastest airship?” Going to the helm, he proved this by taking the Falcon on a tour of the world.

“Hey, look!” Relm shouted, pointing. “There’s Moblitz!”

Terra rushed to the railing and saw the children—’her’ children, who had rescued her from the edge of despair—running out of one of the houses and waving at her, jumping up and down with excitement. Terra waved back, hoping that they could see her, and shared in the happiness that they showed.

The house which had burnt down in Thamasa was also being restored to its former splendor. Under the command of an enthusiastic Gung-Ho, the great building rose from its ashes. Relm saluted her grandfather’s hunting buddy, and he returned the gesture.

The Falcon passed over Kolinghen next, and the little girl—the one who had been tending the seed which wouldn’t sprout—waved at them, pointing at something beneath her feet, a proud grin on her face.

“Well, what do you know? She was right after all.” Remarked Sabin.

In Figaro Castle, Chocobo riding troops were once again on the march, and the Chancellor stood proud at the top of the castle, raising his arms in a salute as the Falcon soared overhead.

In South Figaro, the man who had boasted he would rebuild a hundred times times if Kefka burnt the town a hundred times was making good his promise with the help of the other townsfolk, as well as those who took refuge in the city. Brick by brick, plank by plank, and tile by tile, the scars of war were fading.

“Way to go, Figaro!” Edgar cheered, waving at his people.

Relm pointed towards the now bright blue sky. “Look, everyone! Birds!”

Terra raced to the bulkhead, drawing in a breath of amazement. Indeed, a flock of birds joined the Falcon in triumphant flight as the land itself, free of Kefka’s infectious evil, was also springing back to life. On impulse, Terra reached up and pulled off the band that held her hair in a ponytail. Spreading  
her arms wide apart, Terra closed her eyes as the wind raced by.

At long last, their struggle had drawn to an end.

* * *

_Unnecessarily Long and Tiresome Authoress’ Notes_ :  
Didn’t make too many changes, just streamlined some scenes and dialogue to fit my new style. The actual battle with Kefka was cut, though, since this is supposed to be an “aftermath” story.


	2. Cyan Garamonde

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Doma's old retainer finds new hopes and dreams.

The first thing that Cyan did upon initiating the rebuilding effort was to re-engineer Doma’s water supply.  To this day, he remembered how the river glowed with Kefka’s poison, and the water that was the city’s lifeline became a source of death instead.

 _Never again,_ Cyan thought with determination, as Edgar helped him lay out the plans of the new pipe system.

“Hey, Cyan, you okay?” Edgar asked, looking up from the blueprints he had drawn up.  “You looked kind of distracted for a while there.”

“Forgive me,” Cyan apologized.  “I was busy reminiscing over old times.”

Edgar gave Cyan an understanding look and returned to working out the specifics of the renovation.

– _Cyan_ –

When the construction actually started, large parts of the stone floor had to be torn up so that the pipes could be laid in.  Cyan had been puzzling over how to go about this when Sabin showed up to help.

“This is a job I can do without breaking things,” Sabin had replied with a grin when Cyan offered heartfelt thanks.  Indeed, with Sabin’s help, what might have taken months to complete was finished in weeks.

Sabin dusted his hands off in satisfaction as the final pipe was laid into place.  “Now, to put the rest of the castle back over it.”

Everyone laughed.

– _Cyan_ –

The hardest part came when the parts of the castle’s outermost walls had to be taken apart so that more rooms could be added.

Cyan’s room had been built into the Northern wall.

Cyan ran his fingers along the rough stone.  He still remembered with crystal-like clarity the day he had carried Elaine ‘over the threshold’, how she looked like she was glowing with happiness.  She had that same ethereal glow when she told him that she was pregnant. Then, when Owain was born, Elaine looked like she could have become the sun itself.

“Cyan?” Sabin prompted.  “It’s all right if you don’t want this part of the wall to go.  I know how much it means to you.”

Cyan took a deep breath.  “No, it shall be all right.” He gave Sabin a wistful smile.  “The memories shall always reside in mine heart.”

– _Cyan_ –

Cyan watched with pride as fireworks burst into the sky at the conclusion of Doma Castle’s re-dedication ceremony.  Two full years had passed since he first began working on the castle, and it was gratifying to see that his efforts had paid off.  Now that his old home had been restored to its former glory, Cyan felt as if a great weight was lifted from his shoulders.

And yet, Cyan felt as if something was missing.  Even while he busied himself in the previous year, that feeling gnawed at him.

“Hey, Cyan!” One of the soldiers called to him.  “Don’t just sit around all by yourself moping like that! Have a drink with us!”

Forcing a smile, Cyan moved into the circle of people celebrating and sat among them.  His heart wasn’t quite in it, though, as he continued to ponder.

“I propose a toast!” The man who sat next to Cyan raised his glass.  “To Cyan, Doma, and a glorious future!”

The court resounded with cheers and sounds of cups clinking against one another.

– _Cyan_ –  
After many rounds of toasting and cheering, the party wound down, and the exhausted denizens returned to their respective homes.

 _What’s the matter with me?_ Cyan wondered as he prepared to sleep as well.  _Why can’t I be happy?_

And then, the answer hit him: he was alone.

Even after overcoming his grief and guilt, Cyan never associated with his teammates.  Cyan could always sense an uncomfortable gap form between him and anyone he spoke to.  The group was always subdued whenever he was around, and tried their best to refrain from cracking jokes in his hearing range.  Even Edgar kept himself from flirting in Cyan’s presence.  It was as if everyone was afraid of him.

Except Terra.  Despite all the things he had seen Terra go through—and whatever else she might have endured while brainwashed by the Empire—she still held a bright lookout on life.  In that final battle, it was Terra who first spoke and defended the joys of living.  Cyan could still remember Terra’s voice, strong and clear, echoing in the great void.  When Terra spoke, it seemed that even the inhuman monster Kefka listened.

Cyan also remembered Terra’s transformation, both in the physical and emotional sense, during the battle against Phunbaba.  When he thought all was lost, Terra called upon the power which slept within her and defeated Phunbaba the same way one might snap a blade of grass. For the sake of her friends, and the orphans who called her ‘Mama’, Terra had overcome her doubts and fears and became a true warrior.

The image of Terra that Cyan always had in his mind was that of after Kefka’s defeat, when she stood at the bow of the Falcon and undid her ponytail.  That look of pure bliss on her face as the wind rushed through her hair—

Cyan blinked with surprise as that last thought passed through his head.

“Cyan, thou old devil! Thou art starting to think like Edgar!” He mumbled out loud, the corners of his mouth turning up a bit.

But then again, hadn’t he always wanted to love someone again? When he had been masquerading as the soldier who died in Moblitz, every letter he wrote was out of his own heart.  He still kept those silk flowers he made out of nostalgia.

Cyan smiled again as he caught himself wondering how Terra might react to receiving one of those flowers; he was starting to think like Edgar. But still, it was an interesting idea.

A good one to fall asleep with, at any rate.

* * *

 _Unnecessarily Long and Tiresome Authoress’ Notes:_  
Complete rewrite from the original.

In retrospect, Cyan’s probably old enough to be Terra’s father, but whatever.


	3. Sezter Gabbiani

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A gambler sets off on his highest stakes game ever.

Heads.  Tails.  What determined which side of the coin landed up was the most unpredictable force on Earth: Chance.

Setzer loved to gamble.  Not for the money; he needed no other possessions than Daryl’s airship and the clothes on his back.  Not for fame; he never lived for other people’s opinions, not even when his name was known throughout the earth.  No, Setzer gambled for the sheer thrill of it.  The outcome of the flip of a coin was as unpredictable as life itself.  Setzer always felt like he was in control when he gambled; ironic, indeed, as he was most helpless when the coin—or dice or whatever he happened to gamble with—made its chaotic trek through the air.

Daryl, too, had been a gambler, but her chip had been her own life.  She encountered a few brushes with death before the Falcon had crashed, but she never let that faze her enthusiasm.  Once, she even raced Setzer while her arm was still broken from a previous accident, and won.  Whenever Setzer thought of Daryl, he always remembered the way she was when he last saw her: bold, beautiful, persistent to the point of stubbornness, and declaring with the utmost confidence that she would be known as the woman who flew closest to the stars.

Daryl wasn’t stupid.  She knew the chances she was taking: the dangers of flight, the unreliability of an experimental craft such as the Falcon, and her own ability to make mistakes.  In fact, she had, in a fit of morbid humor, named her first vehicle “Icarus”, for the young boy in legends of yore who had died when he attempted to outdo the sun.  She knew that, like Icarus, she could lose everything, but she gambled anyway.

When they found the wreck of the Falcon—but not Daryl—Setzer assumed at once that Daryl was dead.  And even if Daryl had survived, she probably would have suffered extensive injuries that would have left her unable to fly again.  That would have been a fate even worse than death; after all, Daryl loved flying more than anything.

Or did she?

– _Setzer_ –

“Aren’t the stars beautiful?” Daryl sighed, leaning on Setzer as he flew.

Keeping one hand on the wheel, Setzer reached back to hold Daryl’s hand.  “They’re not as beautiful as you.”

“Flatterer.”

“Really,” Setzer pulled Daryl closer.  “You know when you look the cutest?”

“When?”

Setzer grinned.  “When you lose to me.”

Daryl whapped him, flushing red.  “Jerk!”

Setzer grinned even wider.  “You’re pretty cute when you’re angry, too.”

_– Setzer –_

When Setzer and Daryl weren’t competing, they teased each other and argued to no end.  But there were times like that dark, clear night, when Setzer thought he was the luckiest man in the world to be with a woman like Daryl.  She flaunted all of the traditional ideas of what a woman should do with her life, choosing the sky as the place to pursue her dreams.  No matter what setbacks she encountered, Daryl never gave up; she always came back twice as determined as before.

And that was when it occurred to Setzer that Daryl could be alive.  If the crash didn’t kill her outright, he had no doubt that she would hang onto life with her every ounce of strength.

Assuming, of course, that this was the case.  The chances were about as slim as winning the lottery.  And considering that Setzer had absolutely no idea where Daryl was, the task of finding her seemed almost next to impossible.

But then, Setzer always liked to gamble when the odds were against him.  His job as a goods deliverer for the rebuilding effort was starting to get boring, anyway, as most of the towns had gotten more or less back on their feet.  He was sure that the others would understand.

Setzer started up the engines of the Falcon; as the blades of the craft began to whirl, he made his way to the wheel.

The Falcon started its rise into the air.  Setzer felt the adrenaline pumping through his veins, sending his heart into rapid, frenzied beating.  He took in a deep breath and smiled; he hadn’t felt this alive in years.

“Ante up,” he whispered to himself, tossing a coin into the air.

* * *

 _Unnecessarily Long and Tiresome Authoress’ Notes:_  
I didn’t resolve the actual Daryl issue one way or another because that wasn’t the point of the story. Better treatments of Setzer either finding Daryl or coming to terms that she is indeed dead have already been done.


	4. Edgar Roni Figaro

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wise king. Master diplomat. Incorrigible skirt-chaser.

Sabin watched with disdain as Edgar bid farewell to Celes in his usual, extravagant way.  Celes, of course, paid no attention to Edgar’s flirting; Locke, on the other hand, looked like he was ready to strangle Edgar with his bare hands.

“Don’t you ever give up, brother?” Sabin asked after the couple left.

Edgar smiled.  “What fun would there be in life if I did?”

“You’re hopeless,” Sabin groaned.

“And you’re clueless,” Edgar countered.

Sabin pretended to be angry.  “Shameless womanizer!”

Edgar imitated his brother’s expression.  “Brainless bodybuilder!”

The two glared at one another for a while before cracking up.

“Lobster,” Edgar got out between chuckles.

“Crab,” Sabin snickered.

Edgar managed to compose himself.  “Now that we’ve gotten _that_ out of our systems, there are a few things I’d like to discuss with you, brother.”

Sabin groaned again.  “Is it the old ‘settle down and have a family’ speech?”

Edgar grinned.  “No, it’s the ‘stop sponging off of me and get a job’ speech.”

Sabin jabbed Edgar in the arm.  “How could you be so cruel to your own brother!”

Edgar backed away a few steps.  “I was kidding! Kidding!”

Sabin crossed his arms.  “Hmph.”

“Seriously, brother; you’ve been hanging around here more than usual.  Is there something wrong?”

Sabin looked at his twin brother and saw the genuine concern in Edgar’s face.  “I think—” He paused, trying to find the right words.  He sighed.  “It’s because I don’t feel needed anymore.”

To say that Edgar was beyond shocked would be an understatement.  “Sabin!”

“Now that Doma Castle is more or less up and running, there really isn’t any use for a muscle-head like me.”

 _I’ve never seen Sabin so down since Father died._ Edgar thought.  _But he does have a point._

“Sometimes, I almost wish that things were like before, when I could actually _do_ something.”

Edgar’s eyes lit up as he thought of something.  “Say, brother, have you ever considered opening a training hall?”

“I’m pathetic, aren’t I?” Sabin was jerked out of his self-pity.  “A what?”

“A training hall,” repeated Edgar.  “I’m sure there are still idealistic young kids out there who think that the martial arts are the greatest things since sliced bread.”

Sabin narrowed his eyes.  “Are you toying with me again?”

“Not at all! You could really make a living out of teaching people your Blitzes! Besides, don’t you want to pass down what Duncan taught you?”

Sabin suddenly developed an interest in studying the intricate designs on the floor.

“Think about it, okay?” Edgar gave his brother a reassuring pat on the shoulder.  “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be off performing my kingly duties.”

_– Edgar –_

Through his years of experience, Edgar came to the conclusion that women generally fell into two types: Impressed and Not Impressed.  While it was flattering when a woman was Impressed, Edgar discovered that those who took in his flirting hook, line, and sinker wasn’t the most intelligent, discerning, or mature type.  It was those who were Not Impressed that presented the true challenge, the strong-willed, self-made woman who could think for herself.

The woman which was, for the moment, the target of Edgar’s attention was without a doubt of the first type.  She giggled when Edgar approached her, blushed when he complimented her, and looked at him with a longing gaze when he broke off the conversation and left.

 _Why does Locke get all the luck?_ Edgar wondered.  Celes had been the epitome of Not Interested, but somehow Locke broke through the wall that she had erected around herself and won her heart.  Quite unfair, considering how much more effort Edgar had put into trying to gain Celes’ affection.  Edgar more or less knew quite a few moments after they’d med that he would never win, that Celes never thought of him as anything more than a friend at best, but he still refused to give up.  In the end, though, his constant bantering with Celes ended up as nothing more than a running joke at his expense.

_Ah, well.  There are plenty of other fish._

As Edgar was thinking this, he was approached by a soldier.  “A representative of the New Republic to see you in the throne room, Your Majesty.”

The New Republic was a provisional government created after the death of the Emperor; it was only after Kefka was also killed that the New Republic began to gain true acknowledgment.  It consisted of a very loose alliance between Jidoor, Kohlingen, Albrook, Tzen, Maranda, Thamasa, Nikeah, pluis recent additions Zozo, Narshe and Moblitz.  Each city was still self-governed on the most part, but they elected officials to sit in the council that met at Tzen and agreed to mobilize their respective militarizes should the need ever arise.  Edgar and Cyan had kept Figaro and Doma out of the Republic, citing their business in rebuilding their respective domains as an excuse.  Now, though, there was no avoiding the New Republic, as weak as it might be; now that the New Republic was discussing to rebuild Vector to serve as its capital, involvement was almost imperative.

“Inform the representative that I’ll be right there,” Edgar replied.  The soldier bowed and left in haste.

_– Edgar –_

Tina Manning waited somewhat nervously for King Edgar to enter the throne room.  She had heard quite a bit about the young king of Figaro; none of them painted a good picture of him.

 _I hope he doesn’t play politics the way he does romance,_ Tina thought, suppressing a shudder, remembering the rumors of Edgar’s heavy-handed womanizing.

At that moment, the soldiers guarding the door stood to attention.

“Presenting His Royal Highness, King Edgar Roni Figaro!” A voice announced.

With that, a man garbed in fancy robes strolled into the throne room.

“Pleased to meet you, King Edgar,” Tina said, bowing.  “You certainly know how to make an entrance.  Tina Manning, representative of the New Republic, at your service.”

Edgar stared at Tina for a moment.  “You’re a woman?” He blurted out.

 _Why, of all the egotistical, idiotic—_ Tina glared at him.  “That’s right.  You’ve got a problem with that?”

Edgar raised his hands defensively.  “N-not at all! I didn’t mean to offend you.  I was just a bit surprised—”

 _Yeah, right._ Tina thought, saying out loud, “No offense taken, Your Majesty.  Let’s get down to business, shall we?”

“Lets.” With a gesture, a table and two were brought out.  It was with great relief to Tina that Edgar sat across from her—in other words, as far away from her as possible.

“Now,” Edgar began, resting his chin on his clasped hands, “I assume your visit is to further relations between my Kingdom and your Republic?”

Tina sighed; this wasn’t going well at all.  “It isn’t just _my_ Republic, Your Majesty—”

Edgar flashed a disarming smile.  “—Edgar.  Just plain Edgar would be fine.”

Tina suppressed a scowl.  _This guy just doesn’t give up, does he?_ She cleared her throat.  “Well, then, _Edgar_ , the Republic was founded to counter against future disasters.  Of all the people in the world, I’m sure you are one of those who understand the most that we don’t need another Kefka.  To achieve that, the Republic needs your support.”

Edgar twiddled his thumbs.  “In other words, you want me to give my machinery and my army to you guys so that we can jump in and rescue you if you’re ever in trouble?”

Hearing the patronizing tone in Edgar’s voice, Tina decided that she just about had enough.  “If you don’t want to make an alliance with the Republic, then just say so.” She stood and collected her things.  “Good day.”

“Wait!” Edgar rose as well, blocking Tina’s path.

“Why should I?” Tina asked, not bothering to hide the anger and disdain she felt.  “Obviously talking to you is just a waste of my time.”

Tina made a second attempt to leave, but Edgar stood his ground.  “I’m sorry if that’s what you think, but I simply don’t want to commit my people to more war.”

 _Finally, he’s starting to be more sincere,_ Tina thought, softening a bit.  “I understand.  However, may I remind you that as the representative of a governing body, I am on equal grounds with you.” _So start treating me that way._

Edgar didn’t say anything for a few moments.  “All right.  I apologize for not taking you seriously.  Now, will you kindly sit back down so we can get something accomplished?”

Tina studied Edgar; this time, he was all business, every bit the king he was supposed to be.  “Thank you, Edgar.  I will.”

“Good.” The two sat down again.  “I know you want to cement good relations with Figaro as soon as possible, but I’d rather not hurry.  Let’s take things one step at a time.”

Tina tapped her chin.  “That sounds like a reasonable request.  Where would you like to start?”

Edgar also looked pensive.  “How about a formal introduction ceremony? Then we could begin correspondence.”

Tina nodded.  “The Embassies would be next, and exchange programs between your citizens and ours.”

“Correct,” Edgar agreed.  “Finally, Figaro will join the Republic in a mutually acceptable alliance.”

Tina struck a fist into her palm.  “That’s an excellent plan, Edgar! When would you like to begin?”

Edgar’s eyes twinkled.  “As soon as possible, of course.”

Tina stood, this time not out of anger.  “I’ll go back and present your ideas to the Republic when it reconvenes and bring back the response.”

Edgar rose out of his chair as well, and bowed.  “I’ll be looking forward to it.”

 _Damn, he really **is** a hunk when he’s not such a jerk._ Tina thought, giving him a quick once-over before returning the bow.  “I’m glad we were able to get over our initial misunderstandings, Edgar.”

“Me, too,” Edgar gave Tina a lopsided grin.  “It was a pleasure meeting you, Miss Manning.”

“Tina,” the ambassador corrected, also grinning from ear to ear.

Edgar looked like he had died and gone to heaven.  “If you wish.”

Tina nearly laughed out loud.  She shook a finger at him.  “But remember, we are strictly diplomatic acquaintances.”

Edgar pretended not to be disappointed.  “Of course, Tina.  Good bye.”

_– Edgar –_

After Tina left, Edgar sighed.

 _Not Impressed! One Hundred Percent Not Impressed!_ He sighed again.

Life was good.

* * *

 _Unnecessarily Long and Tiresome Authoress’ Notes:_  
“Tina” is a shout-out to the original Japanese series, where that was Terra’s original name.


	5. Sabin Rene Figaro

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some days it wasn't all that terrible to be the Other Figaro Brother.

Sabin sat down in the ancient library of the castle and breathed in the smell of old books, as if their knowledge wafted from their ancient pages the same way their aroma did.  That musty fragrance always helped calm his mind somehow, so when he was still living at the palace, he often went here to think.  It was in this same library that Sabin had once found his brother Edgar during a chain of events that, in the end, lead all the way up to Kefka.

Sitting down among books that were written well before he was born, Sabin wondered about his brother’s suggestion.  Open a training hall? Sabin doubted that there would be any people interested in the martial arts nowadays.  Not now, after the world had just pulled itself back from the brink into which it had been pushed—no, dragged—by Kefka.  From his travels, Sabin noticed that most people were content to live as normal a life as possible, as if by doing so they could avoid another cataclysm.  That was the way people acted when he was still a young, rash, stubborn sprout of a man, when the shadow of the Empire still loomed over everyone.  Unlike the majority, however, Sabin had not been content to live a peaceful life even when his father was alive.  Therefore, when he had the chance, he left the throne to Edgar, because he knew that under the mask of the womanizing playboy was an able ruler, and, as he later discovered, a compassionate brother.

But maybe there were still idealistic, energetic young people who wanted to make something of themselves.  As someone who had hands-on experience in saving the world, Sabin would be able to point them in the right path, or at least give them the ability to defend themselves in this still savage world.

Sabin got up from his seat.  He had a little visiting to do.

_– Sabin –_

Few people knew of the strange little hermit who lived in the woods.  Of those, even fewer knew who he really was—Duncan Nimurad, creator and master of the Nimurad Barehanded Arts.

However, Duncan didn’t mind the isolation much, as it gave him plenty of time to keep his body in shape.  Of course, he always looked forward to the times when his wife would drop by and give him something to eat, an extra set of laundered and mended clothes, and a peck on the cheek.

As he worked out in front of his cabin, he heard footsteps approaching, and he recognized who they belonged to at once.  “Ah, Sabin,” he greeted, smiling and turning to face his student.  “Back again so soon?”

Sabin blinked.  “You call two and a half years soon?”

Duncan chuckled.  “I hadn’t expected you to show for at least another two or three.  What brings you back to your old master?”

“Well,” Sabin began.  “I was thinking that the world may be at peace now, but it won’t be for long, and we might not be around by the time that things go to pot again, so—” He took a deep breath.  “I’d like to take in students and teach them, like you did.”

“Is that it?” Duncan laughed.  “I thought you wanted to get married and was bringing me your girlfriend for my approval!” Sabin blushed at that.  “Go right ahead!”

“Really? You’re giving me your blessing?”

“Of course I am! The world needs more young folks like you.” Duncan placed a hand on Sabin’s shoulder.  “Passing on the Art was what I had been training you for, after all.  So go out and do it!”

Sabin bowed.  “Thank you, Master.”

_– Sabin –_

When Sabin returned to the castle, he found his twin floating through the halls.

“Are you all right, brother?” Sabin asked, half guessing what was the matter.

“I met the most beautiful woman today,” Edgar sang out, dancing around Sabin.  “I think I’m in love.”

Sabin snickered.  “Give my deepest condolences to the poor lady in question.”

Edgar shook his head.  “Someday, brother, you’ll understand.”

“Maybe,” Sabin answered.  It was at times like these that he wondered where the heck Edgar the Wise Ruler disappeared to whenever Edgar the Flirt was up and running.  _Probably squashed in “Flirt’s” subconscious somewhere_ , Sabin thought, snickering to himself.

“Oh! I almost forgot!” Speak of the devil, the Wise Ruler returned with a vengeance.  “The Republic is going to send some representatives over for a dinner in a week or so.  I’ll need you to hang around and keep an eye on things for me while I entertain the ‘guests of honor’.  That all right?”

“Not a problem.”

_– Sabin –_

Sabin despised suits, even ones that were altered for his large size.  After putting on the dress shirt and buttoning the suit over it, he felt like he would explode out of his clothes if he sneezed.  That, plus the tie that bore a disturbing resemblance to a noose, convinced him that the suit was first designed as a torture devise.

Edgar, seeing the expression on Sabin’s face, put a hand on his brother’s shoulder.  “It’s not that bad, is it?”

Sabin shifted uncomfortably.  “Worse.  I’m beginning to regret this.”

Edgar smiled.  “It’ll only be a few hours.”

_– Sabin –_

Those ‘few hours’ felt like a few _decades_ to Sabin.  He couldn’t decide which was worse: the stifling suit or the even more stifling official interaction.  What was rather surprising, though, was that Edgar was behaving himself quite well despite the pleasant-looking lady who was one of those representing the Republic.

“So, Sabin,” the lady began.  Sabin turned his attention to her and tried to remember her name.  “I heard that you and your brother had a very unusual method for settling who would succeed your late father.”

Edgar coughed, and Sabin chuckled.  “Well, you could say that, Miss—?”

“Tina would be fine,” the lady answered, taking a sip from her glass.

“Er, right.  Tina.” Sabin prayed to whomever might be listening that he hadn’t sounded that stupid.  He forced himself to stay calm.  “I never really thought that I was cut out to be a ruler.  After Father passed away, the matter of succession was the last thing on my mind.  I was convinced that foul play had been involved and wanted to find those responsible.  Edgar didn’t like the court life, either, but he also knew that one of us had to stay behind and watch over Figaro.” Sabin smiled, relishing the memory of that night.  “We decided to toss a coin.  If it came up heads, I could choose whatever life I wanted, whereas if it came up tails, Edgar could go his way.” He grinned at Tina.  “And the rest is history.”

_– Sabin –_

As soon as the dinner ended, Sabin made his way to his room and removed the offending clothing, changing into a short sleeved shirt and pants.  Then, he made his way out into the clear night air.

“Much better,” he sighed to himself.

“You look like a fish that’s been put back into the water,” Tina remarked, walking up to Sabin from behind and almost giving him a heart attack.

“What are you doing out here?” Sabin asked after he had recovered from the sudden surprise.

“I needed some fresh air, too.” Tina took in a deep breath and even Sabin could tell she was much more relaxed.  “Besides,” she continued, playing with her glass, “there was something you didn’t tell me.”

Sabin groaned to himself, remembering the lecture Edgar had given him a long time ago about not putting every emotion he felt on his face.  “Was I really that obvious?”

Tina smiled.  “Not at all.  Your brother, on the other hand, looked like he was about to die.”

Sabin laughed.  “You shouldn’t have told me that.  Now Edgar will never hear the end of it from me.”

Tina laughed as well, a rich, throaty laugh.  After a while, she regained her poise, although her eyes still sparkled with amusement.  “So, tell me Edgar’s deep dark secret, one that could make him look as miserable as he did.”

Sabin told her.

* * *

 _Unnecessarily Long and Tiresome Authoress’ Notes:_  
The secret, in case you aren’t familiar with the game, is that the coin Edgar used was double-headed. In other words, he gave Sabin the life he always wanted and took on the mantle of responsibility because he’s nice like that. Or at least that’s what the game is trying to imply.


	6. Mog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As it turns out, post-apocalyptic politics wasn't all that different from the pre-apocalyptic kind.

Mog rubbed his temples in an attempt to ease his throbbing headache.  It didn’t work.

 _Damn._ Mog buried his head in his hands.  _Why do politics have to be so complicated?_

One of the first things Mog had realized upon returning to Narshe was that Kefka’s defeat wouldn’t be the end of things.  He knew for certain that this would be so when one of the representatives of the so-called ‘New Republic’ approached the elders of Narshe.  The elder decided to agree, appointing Arvis and Bannon as Narshe’s representatives.  Mog, sensing an opportunity to keep a tab on things, offered to be their secret advisor.  With the help of his fellow Moogles, who had been dispersed throughout the world after the Unbalance, Mog set up an extensive information network.  Since Narshe had never been that involved in world affairs, Mog’s help proved to be a valuable asset.  Within the last year alone, Narshe had already risen to be one of the most influential towns in the New Republic thanks to Mog’s help.

What was giving Mog such a headache at the moment was the hottest topic of debate at the New Republic Council, the proposed rebuilding of Vector.  Mog had a nagging suspicion that those in favor of such a measure still supported the old Empire, but there was no way he could prove it.  After all, it wasn’t like he could just walk up to those council members and ask them what their real motives were.

What was even more worrisome, though, was the rumor that some even wanted to revive the Magitek Research Facility.  Despite the fact that Espers had vanished from this world, Mog had seen plenty of evidence that suggested magic had not.  And then there were idiots who worshiped Kefka—in secret, since the Cult of Kefka was outlawed and its tower razed to the ground—and conducted terrorist attacks on various towns; Tzen and Albrook got the worst of the violence, with suicide bombers attacking on an almost daily basis.

 _The last thing this world needs is another Gestahl—or, God forbid, another Kefka._ Mog shuddered.  He made a mental note to continue investigating this rumor and to let the others know about it.  While he didn’t like making anybody worry, it would be better to be prepared in the chance that something disastrous might happen.

Mog’s headache reasserted itself again in the form of constant, pounding pain.  It was days like these that he hated his job.  But somebody had to do it.

_– Mog –_

“Careful,” Mog warned as Umaro picked up one of the large stone slabs that comprised of what was left of Vector.  “You’ve got it?”

“It’s not heavy,” Umaro noted, tossing the slab aside.  He squatted to ease the next one out of the way.  “But this one is.”

Mog toyed with the idea of casting Wildwind to speed up the job for a moment before rejecting it.  They had all agreed to refrain from using their abilities excepting in situations where there was no other choice, and Mog wasn’t sure whether he could pull off a major spell like that anyway.

Mog felt a chill run down his spine as yet another slab was pushed out of the way, and he found himself staring into an immense pipe that seemed to lead into the very pits of hell.  The terrible stench that emanated from the place didn’t help much to dissipate this impression.

 _Nothing ventured, nothing gained,_ Mog thought, steeling himself.  He took a step towards the opening.

“Stop.”

“What’s wrong?” Mog wanted to know, frozen in mid-stride.

“Danger.”

“More than the two of us could handle?”

Umaro hesitated.  “I’m not sure,” he admitted.  “But we should tell the others first.”

“Yeah, that would be a good idea, except when’s the next time we’ll get an opportunity to see everyone again? Setzer’s not due to come around again for another three months, and I can’t leave Narshe to go round everyone up myself.”

“The moogles?” Umaro suggested.

Mog shook his head.  “This is something that I have to break in person” His migraine returned with new-found intensity.  “Damn it, why can’t things ever be simple?” He moaned, burying his head in his hands.

The pipe seemed to stare back at him.

* * *

 _Unnecessarily Long and Tiresome Authoress’ Notes:_ I was, at one point, planning to write a continuation/crossover into Final Fantasy 7, so I set up a possible plot hook here that ended up going nowhere.


	7. Gau

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An orphan finds a father but loses him again.

Setzer was late, Gau noted. Quite unusual, considering that Setzer almost always arrived on time, and Gau would help Setzer deliver supplies to the other towns.

As time passed, Gau became more and more worried. Did Setzer’s airship crash, like the previous one had?

Gau decided to ask Cyan if he had seen Sezter. Getting out his compass, Gau found which way was north and began walking.

_– Gau –_

“Welcome, Sir Gau!” Cyan shook Gau’s hand. “What brings thee to Doma?”

“Setzer not come to get Gau,” Gau explained. He frowned. “Wait, that not sound right.”

Cyan clapped a hand on Gau’s shoulder. “Thou art already improving greatly. So thou sayest that thou has not seen Setzer?”

Gau nodded. “Have Cyan seen Setzer?”

“I’m afraid not, Sir Gau.”

Gau’s face fell. “Oh. Well, thank you, Cyan, but Gau need to go now. Gau want to get to old man’s house soon.” He turned to leave.

“Hold, Sir Gau.” Cyan turned and spoke a few words to a soldier. “Take thee a chocobo; thou shalt get to thine destination much faster.”

Gau wanted to hug Cyan, but he restrained himself. “Thank you very much, Cyan!”

_– Gau –_

Gau slowed the chocobo to a stop as his father’s house came into view. He had been coming almost every day to make some kind of repair on it, and it almost looked brand new now. Gau wondered what would happen when there was nothing left to repair.

The aging gentleman walked out of the house and brightened. “Ah, there you are! I was wondering when you’d get here.”

Gau grinned and walked forward, handing the reins to his father. “Sorry Gau late.”

Gau sat down at the table, and noticed a vase of fresh flowers sitting on it, as well as a framed picture. Turning the picture towards him, he saw that it was that of a well dressed young man standing next to a very beautiful young woman in all white, both smiling.

 _Mother._ Gau felt a lump rise in his throat.

“That’s my dear wife,” the old man explained, pouring Gau a cup of tea. “She passed away a long time ago.” The old man suddenly stared at Gau straight into his eyes. “You! You have her eyes!” Shaking, he reached out and touched a strand of Gau’s bangs. “And her hair—”

Gau almost didn’t dare do so much as breathe. His heart beat in his chest so much so that he thought it would leap out of his chest.

And then old man’s eyes went wide with fear. “Have you come for me as well?”

Gau’s bubble burst painfully. “Huh?”

The old man backed away from Gau. “Don’t pretend! I saw you! You were the monster that took my Annabel away from me!”

Gau shook his head. “No, no, Gau—”

The old man began grabbing things and throwing it at Gau. “Stay away from me! Go! Scram!”

Gau could hold his tears no longer. He turned and fled, not even caring that he had left the chocobo behind.

“Go on! Git!” The old man screamed, continuously showering Gau with whatever he could get his hands on. He untied the chocobo and gave it a hard shove. “And take your devil bird with you, too!”

But Gau was already running into the horizon.

_– Gau –_

Gau crashed through the forest, not caring that the branches were cutting into his skin or the sharp stones piercing his feet. What he did feel, though, was his heart breaking.

_Monster—monster—monster—_

The word echoed again and again in his ears, and the image of his father staring at him with fear and hate etched itself in his mind.

Gau’s foot caught onto something, and he tripped into the shallow stream before him. The icy water stung his wounds and he could taste blood in his mouth from cutting his lip at the fall. Instead of getting up, though, Gau started laughing. Anybody who might have passed through the forest at that moment would have stopped to see this strange sight, a young man dressed in animal skins, laughing and crying and throwing up droplets of water.

But there was no one else.

Exhausted, freezing, and despondent, Gau collapsed into the stream. He no longer had any feeling in his fingers or toes, and the numbness was beginning to creep up into his body as well, but he didn’t care.

The last thing he was aware of as he lost consciousness was the clear blue November sky.

_– Gau –_

Gau opened his eyes and winced as bright light lanced into them.

“Ah, thou art awake.”

Gau blinked, trying to clear his vision. “Cyan?” He asked, his voice hoarse.

“Aye.” A strong hand held Gau down when he tried to get up. “Strain not thyself. Thou art weak, and in danger of falling ill.”

Gau lay back into his pillow and stared at the ceiling. “How Cyan find Gau?”

“When thy chocobo returned without thee, I rallied a search party with dogs,” Cyan replied. “Thou were delirious and babbling nonsense.” He wiped Gau’s face with a cloth. “What possessed thee to attempt to drown thyself?” Cyan leaned forward. “Did something happen at thy father’s house?”

Gau looked away. “Gau—” he shivered.

“Thou needest not reply until thou art ready,” Cyan interrupted, getting up. “Sleep now; when thou wakest, I shall have food brought to thee.”

“Wait!” Gau cried out as Cyan was about to leave the room. “Don’t—don’t go.” He choked back a sob. “Please. Stay.”

Cyan nodded. “Very well.” He returned to Gau’s side and held the young boy’s hand. “I shall not leave.”

Gau grabbed back as if his life depended on it. “Thank you.”

* * *

 _Unnecessarily Long and Tiresome Authoress’ Notes:_  
One of the lesser-known side quests of FF3 can be accomplished by heading to the crazy old man’s house (north of the Veldt) with Gau in your active party. The second time you talk to him, the rest of your party members will realize that the old man is actually Gau’s father.  
When they try to reconcile father and son, however, the old man insists that the baby he had abandoned on the Veldt was actually a monster.  
Naturally, everybody’s mad at the guy for being such a jerk (especially Sabin, if you bring him along), but Gau steps in, and haltingly declares that he is happy because his father is still alive.


	8. Locke Cole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One of many nights spent together.

They stared into each others eyes.  He felt himself being pulled towards her by some invisible force and she to him.  Her eyes began to close and her chin lifted in anticipation of being kissed.  He brought his lips closer to hers.

She stopped.

“I’m sorry.” She drew back, lowering her eyes.  “It’s just—I feel like—like I don’t deserve this.”

“Don’t say that.” He touched her face, fingeres trailing over her features as light and gentle as a feather.

Tears brimmed at the edges of her eyes.  “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t.”

“But what if this doesn’t work out? What if I’m not the right one for you?”

He smiled.  “I’m willing to take that chance.”

Their gazes locked again.  Time slowed to an agonizing crawl as he drew to her a second time.  His heart seemed to stop beating as they became closer, and closer, and—

First contact.

He felt her shudder, and a similar jolt ran through his own body.  His eyes shot open to see her looking back at him, hovering below his chin, not quite daring to touch, her liquid pools of ocean blue asking the silent question.  But both of them knew that it was over.

“I—”

“Shh.” He pressed a finger to her lips.  “It’s okay.”

She took his outstretched hand into hers.  “Can I—have a hug instead?”

This time, there was no hesitation at all.

As they held onto each other, new desires surged through them: To be needed, and to need.  To be protected, and to protect.  To be accepted, and to accept.

To be loved.

To love.

Without condition.  No holds barred. Till death did they part—and perhaps not even afterwards.

It was like getting a little taste of heaven.

They didn’t let go for a very, very long time.

_– Locke –_

Locke woke up, and panicked when he realized that Celes was still hugging him.  Then, he remembered how they had gotten into this position in the first place and relaxed.

Celes’ eyes fluttered open, and she reached up to caress Locke’s face gently.  “Locke.”

He took her hand in his.  “I’m here.  And I’ll always be.  I promise.”

She looked back at him, her eyes glittering.  “I know.”

* * *

 _Unnecessarily Long and Tiresome Authoress’ Notes_ :  
This little piece was conceived out of my long-standing dislike of the tendency for Hollywood to show how much characters ‘loved’ one another by having them make passionate sex on the screen. In other words, I wanted to write an emotionally intense scene with as little physical contact as possible. Finally, during a particularly long bout of insomnia, I hit upon the near-kiss scene. The rest of the story wasn’t conceived until much later.


	9. Celes Chere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One spontaneous decision leads to another.

Celes woke up to the feeling of Locke’s arm around her.

 _What a comfortable feeling,_ she thought, stroking Locke’s soft brown hair.  _It makes me not want to get up._

The two had been living in the house that Locke built for them in Kohingen for quite a while now, but it wasn’t until last night that they slept in the same bed.  However, both of them had agreed not to engage in anything more serious than kissing.  As Celes discovered a little while ago, though, it was difficult to even work up the courage for that.  A part of her still felt that she didn’t deserve this kind of happiness, that she was usurping Rachel’s place in Locke’s heart.

A knock sounded from the front door.  With great reluctance, Celes eased out of bed, walked down the stairs, and opened it.

“Good morning, beautiful,” Setzer greeted, holding out a flower to Celes.  Like Edgar, Setzer also flirted with Celes, but more as a playful joke than anything serious.

“Morning,” Celes greeted back, taking the flower.  “What brings you here? I thought you wouldn’t come by for another week or so.” Kohlingen, being at the ‘edge’ of the world, was one of Setzer’s last stops on his delivery route, and he was so busy that he didn’t have any other chance to visit.

Setzer’s eyes twinkled with a brilliance Celes hadn’t seen since she tricked him with Edgar’s double-headed coin.  “I’m dumping all of my responsibilities on somebody else and doing something completely selfish.”

Celes feigned shock.  “Why, Setzer! How could you?”

Setzer chuckled.  “Well, I’ve always been a sucker for true love.”

Celes blinked, then blushed.  “Sorry to disappoint you, but I’m already taken.”

This time, Setzer laughed.  “Not you, silly!” He grew solemn again.  “Daryl.  I believe that she might be somewhere out there waiting for me to find her.”

“But I thought—the grave—”

“Yeah, I built a grave for her, but she’s not buried there.” Setzer smiled again.  “You see, they never found her body.”

Celes didn’t say anything for a while.  “You’re going with pretty slim odds there,” she offered.

Setzer grinned.  “And that’s exactly the kind of bet I like to take.” He stood up.  “I’d love to talk more, but I’ve got to get going now.” He winked.  “Wouldn’t want Daryl to be waiting _too_ long, you know.”

Celes walked Setzer to the door.  “I wish you the best of luck.”

“Thanks.” Setzer grinned again, showing all of his teeth.  “I’ll need all the luck I can get.” He ran off full speed for the Falcon, parked not too far from the house.  “Oh, and if anyone asks for me, tell them that I’m on a ‘very important mission’!” He yelled over his shoulder.

 _Does that mean I’m the only one who knows?_ Celes wondered.

“Who was that?” A sleepy-eyed Locke asked, coming down the stairs.  “Sounded like Setzer.”

Celes looked at the love of her life and made a decision.  Meeting Locke at the bottom of the stairs and catching him in a tight hug, she whispered into his ear: “It was, dear.  Will you marry me?”

“Oh.” Locke hugged back.  Then he caught the implications of Celes’ question.  “Eh?”

“I’ve finally made up my mind,” Celes explained, continuing to hold Locke in her arms.  “There’s no one else that I’d rather spend the rest of my life with.”

And then she kissed him.

He tasted as sweet as the essence of Life itself.

* * *

 _Unnecessarily Long and Tiresome Authoress’ Notes:_  
Wow, it’s been a while since I’ve written such pure, unadulterated warm and fuzzy feelings.


	10. Relm Arrowny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Creative impasse struggled with, and finally conquered.

Relm put her brush down and sighed.  After finishing the painting Owser had commissioned as promised, she had yet to produce another work that she was satisfied with.  Not only did her pictures seem lifeless, Relm also often found herself staring at a blank canvas, unable to find her inspiration to paint.

Before, painting was like breathing.  When she wasn’t sitting before a canvas, she would go outside with her sketchbook and fill it with drawings of whatever caught her eye.  Pretty soon, everyone in Thamasa knew of the precocious little art genius.  Some even said that her paintings of animals looked so dynamic that they could jump right off the canvas.

But now, no matter how hard Relm tried, she just didn’t feel like drawing anymore.  And the more she tried to draw, the worse she felt—and then the worse she felt, the less inclined she felt to draw.  At times, she became irritable and angry, her internal turmoil causing her to lash out at the unfortunate victims who happened to cross her way.  Other times, she fell into a deep depression, shutting herself into her room and refusing to let anyone in.

“Relm, _please_ ,” Strago begged from outside of the door.

Relm gripped her tube of paint so hard it almost burst open.  “Go away.”

Today had been one of those days.  Compounding her sour mood was the little sleep she had the night before and the even less food she ate.  Not an appropriate way to spend her twelfth birthday, but Relm didn’t care.  The entire world could have ceased to exist and that would have been just fine with her.

“Melinda made you chocolate cake,” Strago cooed.

Relm’s determination wavered.  Chocolate was always her weakness, but it seemed to entice her even more so than before, and days when she felt so down she needed it more than ever.

“It’s still warm,” Strago continued, his voice rising and falling like a baited hook.  “And it smells so tasty.  It would be such a terrible waste of—”

Her hunger overtaking her stubbornness, Relm burst out of the room, almost knocking Strago down, and half flew, half fell the long flight of stairs.

“That sure worked well,” Strago observed, picking himself off the ground and heading after his granddaughter.

_– Relm –_

Her stomach filled and in a somewhat better mood, Relm decided to take a walk, hoping that she could find something that would bring back her desire to paint.  Pulling on a jacket, she made for the hills, sketchbook in hand.  Relm walked until Thamasa was well behind her, settling on a hill that gave her a good view of the ocean.  Flipping open her sketchbook, Relm began to doodle, not really drawing anything in particular, but rather letting her mind drift.  She soon sketched out a small, solitary figure in the distance, back turned as if walking away, his dark clothes fluttering in the wind, a large black dog at his heels.

Shadow, the mysterious man who disappeared when they were escaping from Kefka’s tower.  Strago, ever the cynic, had warned Relm not to hold any kind of hope.  But Relm knew somehow that Shadow and Interceptor were alive somewhere, and clung to the dream that some day she’d see both of them again.

In another corner of the same page, Relm found herself drawing Shadow’s face, the mask covering his features falling away, to reveal—what? No one had ever gotten a glimpse of the man beneath the cold, detached assassin who seemed to only care for money.  But if that were true, then why had Shadow saved her life when she was trapped in that burning building?

Her pencil was almost moving on its own by now, as if guided by some invisible hand.

_Intense, dark eyes that shined with hidden warmth, a head of sandy hair, a 5-o’clock shadow that prickled when he rubbed his chin across hers—_

Trembling, Relm forced herself to stop and put the picture down, because the tears that were threatening to escape her eyes would spot the paper.

“Daddy,” she whispered, tracing her hand across the picture.  All of her other memories were vague impressions, but she made sure that she would always remember what he looked like.  When she had met Shadow for the first time and saw those lifeless orbs peer out from beneath that hood, it had struck a deep sense of familiarity within her that she didn’t dare think about.  But time and time again she caught herself wondering if it could be possible, even if the chances were so tiny that it wouldn’t be worth mentioning.

The clouds parted, letting in the lukewarm rays of the sun.  Mr. Helios did not yet seem aware that it was already supposed to be Spring, and was still shining in a rather unenthusiastic manner.  Being outside in this sort of weather left one feeling a bit cheated and wanting to demand a full refund.  Relm, more cold than anything else, drew her cape over her shoulders and stared out into the breaking waves to try to collect herself.

_– Relm –_

The sun was slipping into the sea when Relm decided to go back home.  Low clouds obscured the otherwise magnificent view, making Thamasa’s artificial lights stand out all the more in the darkness.

 _It’s all so beautiful,_ Relm thought, pausing to take in the view.  Moving by well-practiced instinct, Relm pulled out her sketchbook, flipped to a new page and penciled in a quick sketch.  The unfortunate writing utensil was worn down to the nib, but it still could not reflect what Relm saw.  Maybe as a watercolor—

Seized by a sudden burst of energy, Relm tucked her pencil behind her ear and broke into a run, the view of Thamasa planted in her mind.

_– Relm –_

Relm stepped back from the canvas, exhausted but satisfied.  While the technical points of the painting were a bit weak due to her lack of practice, the whole effect of the picture had managed to capture that moment.

And yet painting seemed to be incomplete.  Stepping back, Relm took another look at it and realized that the lower right hand corner needed something to balance the composition.  But what could she add?

_A solitary figure clad all in black clothes, a large dog following close behind, the two walking towards the dim light in the horizon—_

Swishing her brush in the cloudy water, Relm picked the appropriate colors and began to add the details.

* * *

 _Unnecessarily Long and Tiresome Authoress’ Notes:_  
In a moment of art imitating life (or maybe the other way around), this was inspired by my own struggles with writer’s block.


	11. Shadow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A man running from his past has no where else to go but back along the path he had tread ages ago.

(Eleven years before the Unbalance)

Clyde opened his eyes to find the most beautiful woman he had ever seen hovering over him.  “Are you an angel?” He croaked.

The woman giggled.  “You’re more out of it than I thought!” She mopped his forehead with a wet, cool cloth.  “No, I’m Schala Magus, and you’re in Thamasa.”

Thamasa.  That name sounded familiar.  He and Baram had been trying to make it to Thamasa when they were on the run.

“Baram!” Clyde exclaimed, startling Schala.  “Where’s Baram?”

Schala shook her head.  “I’m sorry, but I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

“He’s been seriously injured! He needs help!” Clyde tried to sit up, but Schala wouldn’t let him.

“You’re in no condition to go anywhere,” she scolded.

“But—what about Baram!” Clyde couldn’t help but remember his partner’s desperate plea.  _Just finish me off now!_

“I’ll ask some people to organize a search party.” Schala pushed Clyde firmly back into bed.  “You just concentrate on getting better.”

The anxiety that Clyde felt seemed to subside at Schala’s soothing words.  As his eyelids grew heavy, Clyde closed them and let himself be overtaken by his exhaustion again.

_– Shadow –_

Clyde awakened to a delicious aroma.

“I thought you’d be hungry,” Schala explained as she carried in a rather large tray stacked with food.

Mumbling his gratitude, Clyde dug in, not bothering to use much etiquette.  He noticed out of the corner of his eye that Schala stayed in the room, watching with silent amusement.  When Clyde finished, he thanked Schala again, and asked her if there had been any news of Baram yet.

“No problem,” Schala replied.  “As for your friend, it’s too early to tell now.  I’ll let you know as soon as we find anything.”

“As soon as I can walk, I’m going out there and looking for him myself.”

“He means a lot to you, doesn’t he?”

Clyde looked away.  “He was injured—he wanted me to kill him so that he wouldn’t slow me down.” He closed his eyes.  “But I abandoned him.” he clenched his fists.  “I’ve got to find him! I’ve _got_ to! Or else I’d never be able to live with myself!”

Schala laid a hand on his shoulder.  “Of course.  I understand.”

“You’d better be prepared to find a body,” said a much older man, walking into the room.

Schala frowned.  “Strago! Don’t be so pessimistic!”

“I’m not being pessimistic, Schala, I’m just giving this gentleman here some practical advice from an elder.” Strago turned to Clyde.  “You’re setting yourself up for a lot of disappointment, friend.  Think about it: you were already on the brink of death when you dragged yourself into town.  What kind of chances will there be for that Baram fellow, who according to you was not only seriously wounded but didn’t have the will to live?”

Schala began pushing Strago out the door.  “That’s enough, Strago.” After she got Strago to leave, she sighed and shook her head.  “I’m sorry about that.  My uncle always seems to have a way of saying the wrong things.”

Clyde managed to unclenched his fists.  “I can’t believe such a terrible old man is related to you.”

The slightest hint of a blush rose in Schala’s cheeks.

_– Shadow –_

Thanks to Schala’s attentions, Clyde was soon pronounced in the best of health.  Of course, Clyde made no delays in preparing to look for Baram.

“So I guess this is goodbye,” Schala noted as she watched Clyde pack the few belongings he had.

Clyde didn’t look up.  “Not that I don’t like this place, but there’s a price on my head; I can’t stay _anywhere_ very long.” He slung his bag over his shoulder and began heading out, passing Strago along the way, but the other man ignored him.  Clyde was about to head out of Thamasa for what he thought would be forever when he heard Schala call out for him.

“Wait! Please don’t leave yet!”

Turning, Clyde saw Schala racing to catch up to him with a large black Rottweiler at her heels.

“I want—I want—” Schala gasped, heaving from her run.

“Catch your breath first,” Clyde advised.  “I can wait.”

Schala did, then looked Clyde straight in his eyes.  “I want you to take Interceptor with you.”

Clyde’s eyes widened.  Of all the animals that Schala had taken in and cared for, Interceptor was her favorite.  “But—”

Schala didn’t seem to hear Clyde’s half-hearted protest.  Bending down to Interceptor, she patted its head.  “From now on, you take good care of Clyde for me, okay?” The dog let out a few short barks.  Rising again, Schala turned to Clyde.  “Please.”

“All right.  If you insist.” Clyde turned to go again.  “Thank you.”

_– Shadow –_

(Present Day)

Clyde, now known by most people as the ninja Shadow, stroked Interceptor’s smooth fur.  “We never did find Baram, did we?” He looked towards the town that was just visible in the horizon.  “I guess the old geezer was right, after all.”

Even from this distance, Clyde could tell that although Thamasa still hadn’t recovered to its former state, it was well on its way to becoming town full of life again.

“Thamasa,” Clyde muttered to himself.  He had never thought he could be so attached to one place.  Of course, it helped that Schala had been living in Thamasa.  Meeting Schala was one of the few things in his life that he didn’t regret.

And then there was Relm.  During the short time that he was reunited with his daughter, Clyde had been both hopeful and fearful that she would discover his true identity, but she never made any sign of whether or not she recognized him.  And, when he had wanted to die in Kefka’s tower, it was the thought of leaving Relm an orphan that kept him going.

 _She wasn’t even three when I had to leave,_ Clyde recalled.  _She might not even remember me._ He sighed.  _And if she does, she might never forgive me._

This thought caused Clyde to hesitate a bit.  He wondered again for the umpteenth time during the last two years of drifting whether revealing himself to Relm was that good of an idea after all.  She had grown up to be so strong and independent; did she really need the painful reminder that her father had abandoned her?

Interceptor whined and tugged at Clyde’s pants, as if it were urging Clyde to hurry up and make up his mind.

“Yes, yes,” Clyde sighed, patting Interceptor’s head.  “There’s no avoiding it, is there?”

Interceptor barked and ran out a few steps ahead of Clyde, turned, and barked again.

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” Summoning what was left of his courage, Clyde forced himself to keep walking again, with Interceptor bounding around him.

After nearly ten years of wandering, Clyde Arrowny was going home at long last.

* * *

 _Unnecessarily Long and Tiresome Authoress’ Notes:_  
It’s possible to recruit Shadow while he’s in Kohlingen, and if you sleep at the inn in Jidoor, you’ll occasionally see his dreams. Later, if you waited for Shadow at the Floating Continent, you’ll get to see yet another one of his flashbacks after rescuing him from the cave in the Veldt. Putting all of these together (plus some comments by the citizens of Thamasa), it’s pretty easy to see how Relm and Shadow are related. Besides, they’re the only two who can equip the relic Momento Ring, whose description is: “departed mom’s love protects against fatal magic attacks”.  
The name Schala is bummed from _Chrono Trigger_ , one of my other favorite SquareSoft titles.


	12. Strago Magus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the Prodigal Son returns, someone always inevitably plays the role of the Resentful Elder Brother.

The sound of frenzied barking did not quite register to Strago’s half-awake brain as the first rays of dawn shone in through his window. Before he realized what it signified, Relm’s footsteps were already rushing down the stairs and out the door.

“Interceptor! Interceptor’s back!” she cried as she ran by Strago’s room.

This got Strago out of bed in a hurry.  He didn’t even bother to put on his shoes as he hastened to see for himself.

“WOOF!”

He felt his footsteps slow as he caught sight of Relm. Knocked down by Interceptor, Relm was shrieking with laughter as the large Rottweiler greeted her with great enthusiasm.  Strago couldn’t remember when was the last time he had seen Relm so full of unbridled joy.

Relm’s laughter stopped as Shadow approached them. Getting to her feet, she tried her best to look solemn.  “H-hi.  Um, sorry about that, I didn’t mean to—”

Shadow shook his head.  “No, it’s all right.” He knelt down before a surprised Relm and patted Interceptor’s head.  “He’s just happy to be home.”

“W-what do you mean?” Relm asked, voice trembling.  “I don’t understand.”

Shadow removed the mask covering his face and let it flutter to the ground.  Relm’s eyes grew wide and she choked back a gasp.

Strago regarded the man with more outward calmness than he felt.  “Clyde Arrowny.  It has been a long time.”

Clyde rose to his feet and faced Strago.  “Yes, I know.” He turned towards Relm again.  “Relm, I—”

Relm panicked and reacted out of instinct.  In other words, she turned and made a beeline for her room.

“I’ll say she took that pretty well,” Strago remarked, noting that he would have to replace that door again.  “Don’t you agree?”

Clyde sighed.  “You’re not going to make this easy, are you?”

“Of course not,” Strago answered, as if it should have been obvious. “A little girl had to grow up without her parents because of you.”

“Did you think I wanted to leave?” Clyde asked anger rising.

“You could have at least said goodbye to Schala,” Strago returned.  “The last thing she said before the fever took her for good was she wanted to see your face one last time.”

“I was already on borrowed time when I left!” Clyde shouted.  Softer, almost in a whisper, he continued.  “Every day I prayed that her eyes would open again, if only for a moment.  But I just couldn’t wait any longer if I wanted to protect Thamasa from the Empire.”

Although Strago would never admit it to Clyde, the other man was right.  Whatever was in Clyde’s past that got the Empire on his tail, no matter how big or small, would have thrust Thamasa back into the spotlight, something that no one wanted.  Of course, in the end, it was inevitable that things would come to a head at Thamasa again, but in their short-minded thinking the other citizens probably would have asked Clyde to leave had he not done so on his own.

Strago sighed.  “Well, I suppose we can’t stand out here and stare at each other forever.”

Clyde didn’t look back at Strago.  “Thank you.”

– Strago –

_(Ten years before the Unbalance)_

“You’re making a terrible mistake, Schala,” Strago insisted as Schala prepared their dinner.  “Even if the rest of the town agrees to letting him stay, he’s not the type to stick around long.”

“What makes you so sure?” Schala asked with only the slightest hint of annoyance.

“Have you watched him? I mean, really observed him? He’s always jumpy, looking over his shoulder, like someone’s after him. And he’s never talked about himself much.  He’s hiding something, I tell you, something big, and he’ll bolt the minute he so much as imagines that he’s in danger.”

This time, Schala stopped, turned, and glared at her uncle. “Why did he come back, then?” She challenged.  “If he’s so neurotic about being caught, then he wouldn’t have returned to a place he had stayed for so long, would he?” She turned back to her cooking.  “And besides, none of this is going to matter if the Elder says no, so why are you so worried?”

“I—I care about you, Schala.  I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Clyde would never hurt me,” Schala said with quiet conviction, her cheeks taking on a rosy glow.

_– Strago –_

_(Present Day)_

Strago knocked on his “granddaughter’s” bedroom door.  “Relm, it’s time for dinner.”

“I’m not hungry.”

 _Big surprise there,_ Strago thought to himself.  “Your loss, then.  I’ll save something for you.”

Without waiting for a response, Strago headed back downstairs, where an anxious Clyde was waiting.

“Well?” Clyde prompted.

“You’ve got to give her more time.  You can’t just show up at our door and expect to be welcomed back with open arms.”

Clyde’s eyes went to the floor.  “I know.”

Strago stepped past him towards the table.  “Anyway, I’m famished. I’m afraid I’m not much of a cook, but it’ll fill you up.”

Clyde made his way after Strago.  Interceptor, however, remained at the foot of the stairs, whining.

_– Strago –_

_(Nine years before the Unbalance)_

“Papa!” Relm squealed in delight as she teetered towards her father. Clyde picked her up and lifted her high in the air, and Relm responded by high-pitched shrieks that carried throughout the house.

Schala peeked out of the kitchen and smiled when she saw the scene. Wiping her hands on her apron, she walked out towards Clyde. “You’re going to spoil her,” she teased.

He gave her a peck on the cheek.  “Nonsense.  You can never love someone too much.”

She smiled even wider and hugged him.  “How true.”

“AHEM!” Strago’s not-too-pleased voice boomed from the kitchen. “I’d like to eat sometime this century!”

“In a minute!” Schala called back.  She sighed and ran a hand along Clyde’s scruffy chin.  “You know, if I didn’t know any better I’d think that he was jealous.”

Clyde chuckled.  “I hope not.  I have no intentions of sharing you with anyone else, not even your uncle.”

Schala giggled and hugged him even tighter.  “Clyde, you naughty boy.”

Clyde gave Schala a mischievous glance.  “Schala, there are children present.”

Schala rolled her eyes and gave Clyde’s nose a light tweak. She then turned to Relm and ran her fingers through Relm’s feathery soft hair.  “You be a good girl for Daddy while Mommy makes dinner, okay?”

“Kay,” Relm replied, holding onto Schala’s finger with a clamp-like grip.

Schala laughed.  “Hon, if you don’t let go I can’t leave!”

Relm only gave Schala a gap-tooth grin.

Clyde wagged his thick, calloused index finger in front of Relm. “Isn’t Daddy’s much more fun to play with?” he tickled her between the ribs.  “Hm?”

With a yell that could have woken the dead, Relm attacked Clyde’s hand with both of her own, latching on so that it was impossible to talk her into doing anything else.

Schala kissed Clyde.  “Thank you, dearest.” she smiled again. “I won’t forget your noble sacrifice.” Schala spun with a coquettish twirl like that of a ballerina’s, then skipped her way back into the kitchen.

_– Strago –_

_(Present Day)_

Relm buried her head into her pillow, wetting it with the tears that were streaming from her face.

“All this time,” she whispered, using every bit of her self control to keep from screaming.  “All this time—”

A tentative, all-too-familiar knock sounded at the door. “Little girl, little girl, please let me in.”

Relm felt a smile creep up on her face despite the tears that still fell.  “Not by the hair of my chinny-chin-chin.”

“That so, eh? Then I’ll huff, and I’ll puff, and I’ll blow the house in!” That did it.  Relm ran to the door, undid the latch, and threw it open in record speed, throwing herself into the arms of the father she hadn’t seen for what seemed to be an eternity.

_– Strago –_

Strago sat in the rocking chair, petting Interceptor.  “You brought him back for her, didn’t you?” He took the thumping of the dog’s tail as an affirmative.  “She always did say you were smarter than some people.” He smiled.  “Especially a certain stubborn old uncle.”

Perhaps it was time to forgive this nephew-in-law.  After all, if Schala loved him, then he was worth knowing.

* * *

 _Unnecessarily Long and Tiresome Authoress’ Notes_  
In “reality”, Strago’s probably not related to Relm in any way, but I thought it’d be neat to have him have some sort of blood tie to her, since this makes it much harder for him to forgive Shadow for “abandoning” Relm and her mother.


	13. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chronicle ends here, but the adventure continues.

The deck of the Falcon had nothing on it save the steering wheel, and plenty of standing room, making it perfect to hold a wedding there.  And, at five hundred feet up, the already quite nervous groom was would be too occupied about the prevalent wind conditions to even think about getting cold feet.

Strago donned an old priest’s gown to perform the ceremony.  When asked whether he had actual legal authority to marry the happy couple, Strago replied that His Royal Majesty Edgar Roni Figaro had, for this very occasion, granted him that authority.  This revelation was a bit of a surprise to everyone, the bride in particular, but Edgar just shrugged and said that he was doing what he should.  Besides, Locke had already asked Edgar to be the best man; what else could Edgar do besides give his blessing?

Relm, wearing a pink dress that she designed herself, didn’t look like the smart-mouthed squirt that she was two years ago.  Gau, now a strapping young man of fifteen, and quite civilized now thanks to Cyan, turned a healthy shade of red when Relm passed by.  Relm, to her secret delight and Strago’s not-so-secret dismay, noticed, and walked with her head a bit higher.  She smiled at her father as she made her way to her designated place; Clyde returned the smile with his eyes, feeling his throat tighten a bit as he realized for the first time that his little girl was blossoming into a woman.

Terra, the maid of honor, was next, and it was Cyan’s turn to blush.  Lucky for him, no one else noticed; he still lacked the courage to tell Terra how he felt about her face to face.  If he knew that Terra had already half-guessed who her mysterious admirer was and planned to write a return letter, he might have died and gone to heaven right then and there.

Everything else was forgotten the moment Celes rose onto the deck with Cid at her side.  To Locke, as well as the rest of the audience, she looked like an angel from heaven.  Moving with the grace of a princess to the overture provided by Gogo at the organ, Celes almost floated to the altar, where she passed her bouquet to Relm, then took Locke’s trembling hand and knelt with him.

Strago smirked to himself.  Kids.  “Heaven smile upon us and on the two standing before this holy altar.” Walking around the altar to the two, he pulled them up.  He waited for Gau to hand him the bright red cord before continuing.  “Celes Chere, do you consent and pledge to be joined to this man?”

“Yes,” Celes replied, seeing no one but Locke.

Strago tied one end of the cord to Celes’ left pinky, then turned to Locke.  “Locke Cole, do you consent and pledge to be joined to this woman?”

“Yes,” Locke answered, eyes never once wavering.

Tying the other end of the cord to Locke’s right pinky, Strago then brought the couples’ hands together again.  “Then by my witness and the witness of these people, I affirm your oath.  May you become bonded to one another as represented by this cord, may you raise children together, and may you grow old together.” This time, Strago smiled so everyone could see.  “You may kiss.”

This time, Relm did not make any comment about the sudden inexplicable rise in ambient temperature, but she did turn her eyes away when the kiss lasted much longer than anyone anticipated.  When it ended, everyone burst into enthusiastic applause except the happy couple, whose hands were rather occupied in holding each other.

_– Epilogue –_

Celes waited for Setzer to return to the deck with the drinks before closing her eyes and tossing her bouquet into the hair.

It landed perfectly into Terra’s arms, who was so startled by this that she almost dropped it.

“Congratulations!” Celes grinned.  “So who’s the lucky guy?”

Terra couldn’t help looking embarrassed.  Meanwhile, Setzer had already opened the first bottle of champagne and began distributing the drinks with Gogo’s help.  Relm and Gau, being a bit too young for alcohol, opted to put soda into their glasses instead.

After the last drink was poured, Edgar raised his glass.  “A toast, to the bride and bridegroom.”

“To Locke and Celes,” everyone echoed.

“Now, Edgar, Celes is officially ‘taken’,” Sabin reminded his brother with a grin.  “You’d better not try to make any moves on her.”

“Of course I wouldn’t,” Edgar answered, pretending to be offended.  Then he grinned as well.  “I value my life more than that.”

“How’s your ‘very important mission’?” Celes asked Setzer, winking.  The secret they shared had remained one by Setzer’s request, and Celes, true to her word, told no one else.

Setzer swirled his drink.  “No luck so far, I’m afraid.  There’s been a few leads here or there—” he shrugged.  “But nothing substantial.  It might be years before I find anything.”

Cyan clapped a hand on Setzer’s shoulder.  “Worry not, Sir Setzer, thou can count on me to continue thy work.”

Setzer smiled.  “Thanks, friend.”

_– Epilogue –_

“It must be exiting to travel the world and help so many people,” Relm began, trying to start a conversation with Gau.

Gau scratched the back of his head.  “Not really.  Gau always fall asleep when flying.” He chuckled, sheepish.  “And sometime get sick.”

“Actually, so would I,” Relm confessed.  “That’s why I was always walking around and looking out the window; the scenery helped keep me distracted.” She took in the fresh breeze.  “Today’s a beautiful day, don’t you think?”

“Yeah,” Gau replied, although his eyes weren’t on the same thing that Relm’s were.

Meanwhile, Clyde intercepted a rather dangerous-looking Strago.

“Let me pass,” Strago all but growled.

“Worried about Relm?” Clyde guessed.  “She’ll be fine.” He smirked.  “Or are you jealous?”

“Nonsense!” Strago hmphed.  He glanced over to where Relm and Gau were talking, and his expression grew desperate.  “But look at them!”

“Don’t you think I know?” Clyde asked.  “I’m not blind.” Strago tried to push past Clyde, but Clyde was firm.  “Stop that, Strago.  Relm’s having a wonderful time, and the last thing you should do is ruin it by embarrassing her.”

“B-but!”

“But nothing.” Clyde grinned.  “Don’t be such a fuddy-duddy.”

Strago could only stammer, mouth opening and closing like a fish.

_– Epilogue –_

“Hey, Mog!”

Mog looked up to see Edgar waving at him.  “Oh, hi, Edgar.”

Edgar went up to the moogle.  “Why are you looking so down? Aren’t you happy for Celes?”

“Of course I am.” Mog sighed.  “It’s just that I can’t help thinking that things are far from over.”

“That’s true,” Edgar agreed, “but you shouldn’t worry yourself to death about it.” He grinned.  “It’ll make you bald.”

“Oh, let me go bald, then,” Mog snapped, a bit irritated.  “It’s because you humans always forget the constant threat of danger that history repeats itself.  Except next time, we might not be so lucky!”

“Mog, Mog, Mog!” Edgar chided.  “Don’t tell me you think you’re the only one who’s ever thought of that, because that’s certainly how you’re acting.” He shook his head.  “You don’t need to feel like you’re carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders.  All of us—” he gestured towards the others, “are aware of how delicate this peace is.  But today is not the day to think about that.  Celes and Locke just got married, and they want to share their happiness with everyone.  Even if it was just for their sake, even if it was just for today, couldn’t you enjoy yourself?”

“I—I suppose I could,” Mog answered slowly.  He forced a smile.  “Indeed, I should be participating in this joyous occasion, should I not?”

Edgar gave Mog a thumbs up.  “That’s the spirit!” Then, with a wink, he added, “and if all else fails, you could always get very, very drunk.”

Mog watched Edgar leave.  “If you knew what I knew.” He sighed.  He still hadn’t found the appropriate moment to inform them of his discovery, but he knew he had to sooner or later.  Preferably sooner, before something catastrophic happened.

But Edgar _was_ right, for once.  Today was a day of celebration, joy, and hope, and he wasn’t about to ruin it.

And besides, Mog never turned down an opportunity to dance.

“Make way for the master!” he exclaimed, pushing all of his cares out of the way for the moment.

* * *

 _Unnecessarily Long and Tiresome Authoress’ Notes_ :   
The marriage ritual Strago performed is a variation on the traditional Shinto wedding, with a few elements of the typical Christian ceremony thrown in. The red cord is from a Japanese myth (probably ultimately of Chinese origin) where an old woman ties destined lovers together with said cord by their pinkies.


End file.
